“Are you ready?” she whispered without looking at her.
“It’s too late if I am not,” Celine replied.
With that, the Master of Ceremonies pushed the doors open and the silence of the hallway was filled with the noise and excitement of the ball. Diana’s breath caught. The difference between the hallway and the ballroom was overwhelming, and it took her a minute to blink away her surprise. She had, of course, been to many a ball, but this one seemed extra magical.
The floor was covered in a luxurious red carpet, so thick it felt as though they sank into it, and it led to the two steps just ahead of the entrance way. At the bottom, the pine floor stretched out in front of them, the wood scratched and dented from years of dancers, loving and laughing. It had seen a world of people go by, and it had witnessed scandal and honor.
They walked to the top of the stairs, where they were stopped by the Master of Ceremonies, and his voice boomed through the room.
“Lady Diana Allen, and her Sister, Lady Celine Allen.”
He stepped aside with a flourish, allowing them to enter, but even Diana stopped, watching the proceedings with awe. There were people everywhere, and dressed in every color imaginable. At the other end of the room, there was a string quartet that, at that moment, played a jaunty tune that had dancers stepping gaily to the music. Diana suspected they were attempting to follow a dance, but which one she could not be sure.
Along the one side, chairs lined the wall along with the occasional small round table, and servants wove through people offering glasses of wine and port, as well as tea and lemonade and all manner of hors oeuvres.
“There are so many people here,” Celine whispered to Diana.
“Yes. All the best events have plenty of guests. There is nothing worse than a ball with no attendees. And luckily, you have rather caught their eyes. Come, enough people are showing interest in our arrival. Let’s perhaps introduce you to some, Lady Celine.”
“My Darling Nieces, there you are!” Aunt Edith spied them through the crowd and made her way towards them, arms held out in a welcome. “You are positively late for your own ball.”
“Not late,” Diana said, a twinkle in her eye. “By the looks of things, the ball is only just getting properly started.”
Edith tutted at her improper words, but smiled all the same. She was a plump, aging woman with far too much powder and heavily rouged cheeks. She had little to do with the girls or with the Estnell family at all, having far too much of her own socializing to do. But she drew the line at either of the girls not coming out in the correct manner, and so just as she did for Diana, she arranged a ball for Celine.
“Good evening, Aunt Edith,” Celine said, her voice soft with her coyness. “Thank you for this, it means the world to me.”
“The least I could do, since my own poor, dear Sister is no longer around to do it for you, and that Father of yours seems to have completely lost himself.”
“He’s not lost,” Diana said, her words quiet and subdued—uncertain, even.
“Well,” Edith said, her lips in a tight line, “enjoy your evening.” She went to turn away but Celine stopped her with a gasp.
“Are you not going to introduce me to anyone?” she asked.
“You have your Sister for that,” Edith said harshly. “It is enough that I organized the ball for you at all.”
“Ignore her,” Diana said once Edith had left. “She is right—that you are having a ball at all is a miracle, given Father’s decline in recent years. And besides, I can introduce you to all you wish to be introduced to.”
Celine looked up at her and smiled broadly.
“You’re right. I would much rather spend the evening with you than with her.”
They stepped down the step and into the ballroom proper, where they were immediately swallowed by the crowd, an excited buzz building around them. Diana watched Celine look first this way and then that, not knowing what to focus, but she could also see the smile on her face and knew she was enjoying herself already.
“Celine?” she said, directing Celine to a gentleman stood in front of them. “This is George Fitzgerald, the Earl of Huntingdon.”
“Lady Celine, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He bowed to her and she instantly blushed. He had prying eyes and an unpleasant smile, but Diana nodded to him politely all the same.
“Lord Huntingdon,” Celine said, curtsying in response. “It is indeed a pleasure.”
Diana whisked her quickly away, whispering into her ear.
“It’s typical of him to be the first to approach. He has a large nose for gossip, and he has wandering hands. Be careful never to find yourself alone with him.”
“Oh,” Celine replied, clearly surprised, “I thought—”
“There are plenty of good and bad, Celine, you just need to know which ones to look out for.”
“Ah, you must be the Lady Celine we’re celebrating tonight.”
They looked up to find Lady Rebecca Honeyfield standing over them. She was a tall lady, and strongly built—manly, some might say. Her blonde hair was piled high on her head, and her face was overly made-up, the powder laying evident on her skin. She held a fan to her chest and pouted her deep-red lips as spoke.
“How lovely to meet you,” Celine said after Diana had made the introductions. “Do you attend many balls?”
“Every one I can,” Rebecca said, looking Celine up and down as though insulted by Celine’s question.
Diana pulled her away again, smiling and making her apologies.
“She is judgmental by nature, but ultimately a good soul. Don’t mind her. She looks worse than she is.”
“Goodness,” Celine replied, blinking, “and what of that gentleman?” She pointed at the man in the corner, stood with his back to them. His brown curls were perfectly placed and his tailcoat perfectly pressed. He was a handsome man, if the shape of him was anything to go by, and he carried himself well.
“Ah, he often catches the eye. Lord Frederick Crawford. Nice to look at but a commensurate bore, and stand well back for no matter how nice he looks, he often forgets to bathe.”
“And him?” Celine chuckled, then pointed to yet another gentleman. This one had straight blond hair that poked up unevenly, and he wore a deep-red color that made his skin look dreadfully pale.
Diana put her hand up to Celine’s and, quite without word or glance, pushed her pointing finger down to the floor. She knew Celine would understand the action as a reminder not to be quite so rude.
“Adam Bannerman, Marquess of something or other—I forget. A reasonably sweet gentleman, I suppose, although nothing to look at and apparently has an eye for boys.”
Celine gasped, shocked by this admittance. To be so open about their misdemeanors was something she had not been expecting.
“Indeed,” Diana said, eyeing her sister. “But it’s only a rumor. Perhaps I do him wrong by mentioning it, but it seems common knowledge among the ton.”
“And they do not shun him for it?”
“Actually, no. He is wealthy, he is polite, and he is fun to have at a soiree. The ton care not for morals, but instead for what they can gain.”
“So, is there anyone worth speaking to at these events?” she asked.
“That is debatable,” Diana said with a sigh. “Although everyone but me seems to enjoy it. You understand now why I am so reluctant to find a suitor among the ton.”
“Absolutely,” Celine replied. Her eyes were still wide with shock and she stayed close to her sister.
“Good evening, Lady Diana, how delightful to see you here again.”
They turned to find themselves face-to-face with Lord Percival Templeton, the Earl of Wensworth.
“Lord Percival, how nice to see you. I trust you are well?”
“Well enough, thank you,” he replied, then his eyes flicked to Celine and back, a clear enough hint that he looked for an introduction. Diana shook her head against her forgetfulness.
“Have you met my
Sister, Lord Percival?” Diana asked.
“No, but it is a pleasure, My Lady.” He bowed to Celine as Diana spoke.
“This is Lady Celine Allen,” she said. “Celine, this is Lord Percival Templeton.”
“Say, are you free for this dance, My Lady?” he asked.
Celine threw Diana a glance as if to say And this one? Diana replied with a glint in her eye. Yes, he’s acceptable.
“Yes,” she said with a smile. “I am free, if you would care to dance.”
Chapter 6
Isaac meandered across the floor, watching those who were dancing, those who were talking. He cradled a glass of wine in his hand, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings. He leaned against the wall at the far end of the ballroom, not too far from the string quartet, and he watched as Lady Celine and her sister wove through the throngs of people.
He spoke to no one, other than a polite nod or good evening, and he certainly did not dance. He had only one thing on his mind, and that was to complete the task he had been set. He watched slyly in an attempt to hide his actions.
Lady Celine, he noticed, curtsied often and her smile did not fade. He liked that. A lady who did not smile was not a lady he wished to talk with. He thought her quite beautiful, too. Her gown certainly showed her to her best advantage. She was acceptable, at least.
Approaching her will not be too much of a chore.
He found, to his pleasure, that he could not take his eyes off her, that the watching was not as much of an issue as he had supposed. The flashes of ivory through the crowds drew him, time and again, and it was when he noticed she had been separated from her sister that he decided to approach her.
He kept his eye on her for another moment or two, seeing the pride and happiness on her face, watching how she carried herself with propriety, and then he began to make his way through the crowd.
He did not look where he was going, instead pushing through people almost as though he were drawn to her as a magnet is to metal, uncaring of what or who got in the way. And for that, he walked headfirst into another young lady. He heard her squeal with surprise and, without a thought, he thrust his hand out to catch her as she lost her balance. She, in return, gripped his arm to steady herself.
“Goodness, I’m sorry, My Lady,” he said, although he was as equally surprised as she to find himself in this situation. He glanced quickly up at Celine, then back down at the matter at hand.
“You would do well to watch where you are going, My Lord,” she said, her tone harsh and reprimanding. “You never know what sort of accidents you could cause. I beg you to be more aware.”
He tilted his head, looking at her curiously, his focus suddenly held firm and fast. She still had hold of his arm, and she seemed in no rush to let go. Her rage was clear on her face, her brows deeply furrowed and her cheeks flushed with an angry pink. And yet, she was stunning to look at, and he let his eyes rove over her. Her hair shimmered as though it were made of flames, and her beauty by candlelight was breath taking.
“I know, Lady—” he looked at her with the question on his lips. She straightened, letting go of his arm finally, and then with a sour expression, she answered him.
“Lady Diana,” she said.
“Well, Lady Diana, I cannot apologize enough for my brutish and unthoughtful behavior. It was simply unacceptable.”
“Do you dare to mock me, My Lord? For I do not take kindly to such an act.”
A smile twisted on his lips and he realized he was enjoying himself. He had never before met a lady so willing to speak back to him, to say what she thought with such ferocity. Most would shy away, but Lady Diana exuded confidence and allure, and he liked it more than he could say. She was, already, endlessly fascinating.
“No, of course not, Lady Diana. I would not dream of mocking someone such as you. You were quite right to reprimand me. I was not looking where I was going.”
“And who are you, Sir?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him, although he could see the curious glimmer in her expression and the start of a smile on her lips.
“Forgive me—again—for I have not been a gentleman in not introducing myself. I have quite forgotten my manners. I am Lord Isaac Campbell, Duke of Gallonon, and it really is a pleasure to meet you.”
He saw her cheeks flush and something of embarrassment flash through her eyes. Even such an outspoken lady would not dare to speak to a superior in such a way, but he liked it all the same.
“Oh…I…I did not realize, Your Grace. I have, of course, heard of you, but I do believe we’ve never met. I—”
He chuckled, then bowed to her in condescension.
“It’s quite all right,” he replied. “Besides, you were correct. I should have watched where I was going, and I certainly should not have barged into such a lovely young lady with the result of nearly knocking her to the floor.”
“I…” she seemed flustered for a moment, but she soon gathered herself and her earlier aloof strength returned. “Yes, exactly. Duke or not, you really ought to be more careful.”
They paused, saying nothing for what seemed to Isaac like an eternity, but it was an eternity he wished to wallow in. It seemed to him that the room shrunk back to just the two of them, and he counted his steady breaths to stop himself from blurting out something inappropriate.
He could not tear his eyes away from hers, the rich ocean blue speckled with ice. He wanted to say something more, to engage her in conversation, but his mind had emptied and he could think of nothing of interest or intellect to say.
Only her.
“Is there anything else, Your Grace?” she asked, eyeing him with a fierceness he thrilled at. “It’s just, I’m here with my Sister this evening, and I really ought to find her again. If you have nothing more to say, I should—”
“Of course,” he said, and then the memory hit him.
Celine.
He thought suddenly of the one he was in pursuit of, realizing how far away from his task he had come. He was distracted for a moment by this fascinating, beautiful lady, but he knew if he stayed talking to her then he would be distracted in entirety. He could not forget his mission. He must not.
“No, My Lady, of course. Please, accept my apologies once again.”
“Accepted,” she said with a curtsy. “Have a pleasant evening, Your Grace.”
“And you,” he said.
He turned back in the direction of Celine only to find she had moved. He looked around in panic, his eyes rushing through the people in search of her and when he finally found her, she was talking to another gentleman, one he did not recognize.
He watched for a moment, his eyes narrowed as he considered his next move. She smiled at this new gentleman, gazing at him lovingly, as though she were smitten already. Isaac chewed his lip as he contemplated. He knew he should not interrupt their conversation as that would be impolite, but then he could not miss this opportunity. He could not let her fall in love with this man while he was left with nothing to show for the evening.
And so, with a deep breath, he made his decision and began to walk through the crowd.
By the time he got to her, she had thankfully ended her conversation and she stood alone on the steps at the front of the ballroom, looking out over the dancers. She bounced on her tiptoes, her neck stretched as she watched the proceedings, but still she smiled broadly. He climbed the steps and bowed deeply to her.
“Lady Celine, how delightful to meet you.”
“My Lord,” she said. “I don’t think we’ve met.” She still wore her broad smile, and she curtsied, watching him carefully. She was pretty—beautiful, even—but she seemed so demure and gentle, so very different to the Lady Diana who consumed his thoughts. “I am Lady Celine Allen, my Father is the Earl of Estnell.”
A line she has been told to say. He chuckled. Her unease was clear, despite how happy she was to be there. She had clearly rehearsed statements and it showed.
“It would be impossible to not know who you are, after such
an entrance, My Lady,” he said. “Let me introduce myself. I am Isaac Campbell, Duke of Gallonon. I must say, I have noticed you this evening as you have walked around.”
“Why, thank you, Your Grace.”
“Please forgive me if I speak out of turn, My Lady, but I find myself wanting to tell you just how beautiful you look.”
She flushed at his comment and curtsied again, a little uneasily as though she were not quite sure what to do, and he smiled. It seemed she liked him already—perhaps his plan would be easier to carry out than he thought. And her youthful naivety was endearing, certainly, but he found himself craving the feisty conversation of Lady Diana instead.
Games of Desire for Lady Hellion: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 5